A/N: This is what happens when I read too many posts about Sorting.
Also, I'm now on Archive of Our Own (still as 'emmarlene') and I'll be posting my stories here and on AO3.
You know who I am, of course you do. Anyone who's heard about Hogwarts knows about me.
The Sorting Hat.
You know my story. Originally Godric Gryffindor's hat, had intelligence bestowed upon me by the Founders, charged with Sorting young witches and wizards into their true Houses for as long as Hogwarts remained.
Wrong.
Well, not entirely. I was Gryffindor's hat, and the Founders did give me intelligence, and yes, I do Sort the first-years into their Houses.
But their true Houses? Perhaps not.
You see, when Hogwarts began, the Founders choose their students personally. As they grew older, they created me to carry on their work.
It started well. I had intelligence, I could hear the thoughts of students, I could talk back to them.
But it stopped there.
I could only hear the thoughts they wanted me to hear. I was easily swayed by their decisions. I couldn't see their whole personality. Many, many students chose Gryffindor, hearing of his great deeds, and that's where I placed them.
The Founders tried everything. More spells, old enchantments, even dunking me into a potion for days on end. Nothing worked.
(Unintended side-effects abounded, giving me a link to Godric's sword and a special talent for singing from Helga.)
Eventually, the Founders made a plan.
Lie.
They argued amongst themselves for many weeks: were they too proud to admit that they had failed? But they were growing old, and they knew that someone had to Sort the students.
So they lied.
They said that I could see the whole of a person, know all their thoughts, desires, strengths, weaknesses, talents, and fears. They said that with all this, I could Sort students into the House which would truly make them great.
And people believed it. After all, these were the four Founders of Hogwarts, the greatest witches and wizards of their time.
So I told the students what they wanted to hear, and sent them off to random Houses, and no one stopped to question it.
There was one condition that was imposed on me, given by Helga. The current Head of Hogwarts must know my secret, but it must be known by them alone.
Years passed, the Founders died, and I continued on.
No one argued, no one questioned, no one ever thought about challenging my decisions. Sooner or later every student accepted their House, for better or for worse.
Perhaps if I had a conscience, I'd feel guilt for lying to them, but for all their magic the Founders hadn't given me that ability.
On occasion I would stop to think of how history would have changed if I'd Sorted a student differently.
(Perhaps if Slughorn hadn't boasted about collecting the set that Pureblood Black boy might have been in Slytherin with the rest of his family.)
The Heads never tried to interfere, once they knew. They might hate the lie but it was necessary, or at least that's what I would tell them.
(A few times they had asked for favours, wrangling Houses for relatives and friends. Dumbledore had, once. Tell Harry Potter he would be suited to Slytherin, but Sort him into Gryffindor.)
So every year I sing, and I Sort, and perhaps I don't do what I say, but do I have a choice?
I have a reputation to uphold.
You know what they say.
The Sorting Hat never lies.